The Big Sandy river is very small here, a few meters wide stream running over big boulders, in a small valley; further south it becomes a wide river fed by many brooks and rills which finally joins the Green River 100 km south from where I am walking; I am heading to its origin a few kilometers upstream. The trail goes up in the forest leaving the river for some time; around 11 a.m. I met two hikers coming down; first, one sitting on a rock who told me he was waiting for his injured fellow (injury was a sprain at the ankle); we had a chat, told about the weather, a possible camp place upstream, where we come from (the usual things trekkers tell about when they meet) and the second guy appeared; I did not like the view of this guy carrying a gun on his waist; he was certainly a nice person, but I am really not used to that custom, and I still do not see the need for having that sort of thing. I quickly went up, said bye to the guys and went on my way to Big Sandy Lake. These guys were the last ones I met for a few days. Wilderness was waiting for me.The waters of Big Sandy are sometimes running fast, some times flowing quietly in meanders in flat valley portions; the small rills are usually flowing fast. In the forest, nice surprises await the open eyes: gooseberries, well, not a lot, animals already ate almost all of them, and they are over matured at that season, but they had a nice taste, mmmm. The trail was going up and between the trees, I soon could have a glimpse to Big Sandy Lake where I would arrive in short time.